


kiss it better

by should_be_asleep



Category: The Witcher (TV), Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types
Genre: Blood and Injury, Blood and Violence, First Kiss, Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia Loves Jaskier | Dandelion, Getting Together, Hurt Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia, Jaskier | Dandelion Loves Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia, M/M, Miscommunication, chaos gays, dumbass jaskier, he's doing his best okay, it's not his turn with the brain cell, kind of?, this ended up with a lot more of the fight in it than i was anticipating but we ride, unrivalled dumbassery from them both
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-01
Updated: 2020-06-01
Packaged: 2021-03-02 22:28:15
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,185
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24460558
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/should_be_asleep/pseuds/should_be_asleep
Summary: Geralt gets injured in a fight, and Jaskier isn't understanding what he's trying to say.
Relationships: Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Jaskier | Dandelion
Comments: 7
Kudos: 146





	kiss it better

Geralt really wished people would start learning the differences between monsters. Okay, it wouldn’t really be easy to incorporate into the education system, and it wouldn’t help in places where half the residents never attended school, but just once he would like to attend a contract and actually end up fighting what he was told he would be fighting.

This one wasn’t too far off; the farmers from the village he and Jaskier were passing through had come to him concerned about a harpy stealing their livestock, so he set out that evening to fight a harpy.

Granted, erynias are a subspecies of harpy, but the distinction between the two is quite a large one, namely that erynias are vicious little fuckers with claws sharp enough to deal some real damage, even to witchers.

Geralt had followed the trail to a small glade in the woods by the foot of a mountain. He was greeted with piles of bones, presumably from the missing animals, and the air reeked of rotting meat. Geralt frowned slightly at the scene, glancing over to a dead cow, the most recent theft. The creature seemed to be leaving it to rot before devouring it. A flicker of a smile flew across his face as he imagined Jaskier’s disgusted reaction to the scene, before returning his mind to the task at hand.

He didn’t have to wait long for his target to appear. He heard its approach first, a grating screech ripping through the air, originating further up the mountain, and it seemed to be getting closer. Silently, Geralt pulled out his silver sword, preparing himself for the upcoming encounter.

The creature landed on the other side of the clearing, attention fixated on the rotting carcass. Geralt swore under his breath, realising that this fight was going to be bloodier than he would have liked. At least there was only one, though.

A second screech pierced the air.

_Fuck._

\------

Geralt snuck through the trees to try to gain the advantage of surprise, but the cry of a wild animal from further in the forest drew the enyrias’ eyes over to him, horrifying sounds coming out their mouths as they quickly took to the sky.

‘Well,’ Geralt thought, ‘brute force it is.’

He slinked out from the treeline, eyes darting between the two flying creatures. There was a moment of pause, neither side moving to make the first attack, mainly because he couldn’t on Geralt’s end. Then, one of the enyrias screeched again and dove straight for him, wings flapping violently, talons out ready to slash at him.

Geralt rolled out the way, quickly regaining his footing in time to have to dodge again as the enyria came at him in a rage. He was vaguely aware of the other enyria still hovering above the clearing, but his main focus was on trying not to get ripped to shreds.

This routine of dodging and slashing carried on for a little while, Geralt waiting for the enyria to wear itself out and give him the opportunity to strike. Eventually, the enyria flew just too low, and Geralt wasted no time in swinging his blade, catching its leg, the momentum of it hurling the creature down towards the ground.

The enyria screeched in a mixture of pain and anger, eyes flying to lock onto Geralt, wings moving to push itself into the air again. Before it could take off, Geralt drove his blade down into its chest, twisting it sharply, watching as blood pooled out of the incision and started staining the grass around them. He heard the other enyria let out a cry of rage, head turning to the new target as he pulled his sword out the fallen creature.

As he moved away, he felt something sharp on his lower leg. The witcher glanced backwards just in time to see the enyria go fully limp, an expression resembling a grin sliding off its face, and he cursed loudly.

The enyria had used the last of the life left in it to take one final swipe at the witcher, sharp talons cutting into the flesh on his leg, blood already starting to drip down from the wound.

There was no time to address the wound, as the second enyria was now coming straight at him. Once again, Geralt rolled out of the way of its initial strike, grimacing as his injured leg pressed into the dirty ground. He tried to use the same tactic as he used for the first creature, but found that moving with speed was becoming increasingly difficult.

‘ _Fuck_ ,’ he thought, almost Vesemir's voice reprimanding him for being careless.

As the fight wore on, Geralt felt his movements getting sloppier. He couldn’t really say it was a surprise that the enyria used this to its advantage, staying just out of his range and then swooping in to slash at the witcher. He grunted in pain as the felt the talons scratch deep across his shoulder, a familiar wet heat blossoming out as his blood rushed to the surface.

The enyria seemed to laugh at him, a cackling sound coming from its lips as it moved in again, narrowly missing the witcher as he manoeuvred out the way. The creature made a hissing sound, flying higher up to circle back around. As it flew above him, Geralt quickly cast Igni, ignoring the pain pulling on his body.

He felt a sort of relief rush through him as the creature above him became enveloped in flames, screeching loudly as it barrelled down to the ground. Before it could put itself out, Geralt rushed over and slashed at its head, blade coming into contact with flesh as it passed through the creature’s neck, cutting its head clean off from its writhing body.

Finally pausing for breath, Geralt allowed himself to look at his wounds properly for the first time. The leg wound wasn’t too bad, more of an inconvenience than anything at this point. The shoulder wound, on the other hand, was more of a cause for concern. Blood was still pouring out at an alarming rate.

Sighing, Geralt picked up the enyria head as proof of completion of the contract, berating himself for allowing himself to be injured as he limped his way back through the forest to the town. He pressed his free hand against his shoulder, trying to keep some sort of pressure on the wound, his shirt already stained beyond rescue.

\------

By the time Geralt reached the inn he and Jaskier were staying at, he was starting to feel the effects of the losing as much blood as he had. Gritting his teeth, the witcher forced himself up the stairs to their room where Jaskier was probably waiting with the medical supplies.

He heard the bard pacing in their room before he saw him, using his uninjured arm to push open the door. Returning his bloodied hand to his shoulder, the witcher stumbled into the room, firmly planting himself on the chair near the door, not wanting to have to pay for another set of ruined sheets.

“Geralt?” He felt the bard’s gaze on his body, not enough energy to return it. He grunted in response, leaning his head back with his eyes closed, taking a moment to try to steady his world.

“Oh shit, Geralt, what happened? Tell me that blood isn’t yours.” He heard footsteps approaching him and forced his eyes open, taking in the look of concern on his companion’s face.

“Not all of it,” he paused, seeing Jaskier’s face relax for a moment, before adding, “just most of it.”

“Geralt! Dear gods, man! Start with that next time! Come on, shirt off, now!” Geralt grunted in pain as fabric moved against his open wound, grabbing the wrists that were tugging at his shirt.

“Geralt? Now isn’t the time for trying to do everything by yourself again, let me see what’s happened to you!” Jaskier’s gaze was insistent, his eyes widening as Geralt tugged a dagger from his boot.

“What on earth are you-” The confused rambling cut off as Geralt slashed through his shirt, peeling the fabric off through the newly added opening. He saw Jaskier’s mouth move to form a protest, the words dying on his lips as his eyes landed on Geralt’s bloody shoulder.

“Oh, sweet Melitele! Geralt! Gods, that is so much blood, how do you even have that much in your shoulder?” The rambling resumed as Jaskier stepped closer, examining the wound, eyes flickering back to Geralt’s face.

“Jaskier, shut up.” Geralt grunted, the flurry of words not doing much to help his head.

“I’m going to choose to ignore that since you’re very injured at the moment.” Geralt rolled his eyes, wincing as Jaskier pressed a cloth against his shoulder. They watched as the cloth quickly turned crimson, the speed at which it did so not doing much to reassure either party.

“Shit, Geralt, this is a lot of blood.” Geralt could see the bard going into panic-mode, his eyes darting around the room frantically, looking for something that could help. “I don’t know how to stop this much bleeding, I-”

“Jaskier.” Geralt cut him off, trying to stop him before he completely lost it. “I need-”

A wave of pain swept through his body, drawing a groan from the witcher.

“Oh, fuck! Geralt, what do you need? Geralt, please, tell me! What do you need?” Jaskier’s voice elevated in pitch, his words becoming faster and more desperate. Geralt forced himself to breathe, doing his best to push through the combination of blood loss and pain.

“Geralt? What do you need?” Jaskier was nearly shouting at this point, which really wasn’t helping Geralt’s head. The witcher tried gesturing towards his potion bag behind Jaskier, arm not responding much more than just lifting up, a calloused pair of hands catching it before it fell back down.

“Geralt?”

“Kiss,” he finally grunted out, hoping Jaskier got the message. The blue-ish potion would stop the bleeding, and then he’d finally be able to do something without having to worry about bleeding out in some inn in the middle of fucking nowhere.

“Excuse me?!” _Fuck._ Apparently he hadn’t got the message.

“I need Kiss.” Geralt repeated more forcefully. He heard a strange noise come out of his bard, somewhere between shock and confusion.

“Oh, fucking hell, you really are dying!” Geralt growled at the bard’s words.

“If I have Kiss then I won’t be fucking dying anymore, bard.”

“Geralt, now really isn’t the time! There is so much blood coming out you at the moment!” Jaskier’s arms flailed wildly, his usual calm demeanour when Geralt returns from hunts nowhere to be seen.

“For fuck’s sake, Jaskier!” Geralt growled, gaze meeting Jaskier’s wide eyes. “Just fucking give me Kiss!”

“Okay! Alright! I really don’t see how this will help, but if you insist!” He saw a million expressions pass through the blue eyes. Jaskier glanced behind himself, and Geralt thought for a moment he had finally snapped out of it and got the right idea.

That thought was crushed as the bard crossed the distance between the two of them, one hand landing on the witcher’s uninjured shoulder, the other moving behind his neck. Before he could process the contact, Geralt was pulled forward and his lips were captured by Jaskier’s.

The kiss was surprisingly gentle, Jaskier's lips soft against his, the tenderness behind the action catching Geralt off guard. He felt himself give into the kiss for a moment, his own lips moving in response without being told to. It felt _right_ , and Geralt nearly got lost in it, before another wave of pain hit him like a horse cart, forcing him to pull back.

He saw Jaskier’s eyes scanning his face, looking for any signs of improvement.

“Well? Did it do what you wanted?” There was a hint of hesitation between the word, matching the hushed tone in which they were said.

Geralt exhaled through his nose, pushing the feeling in his chest down, because he was _still_ fucking bleeding out.

“Jaskier,” he muttered, eyes meeting the bard’s, “I didn’t mean that kind of kiss. I meant the potion.”

The look on Jaskier’s face was something Geralt would have laughed at if he wasn’t bleeding everywhere.

“Potion?”

“Yes. The blue one with purple in it. Called Kiss. It stops bleeding.” Geralt explained, watching realisation appear on Jaskier’s face, a red flush spreading across his cheeks.

“Oh.” He breathed in response, eyes shifting away from the witcher’s.

Geralt rolled his eyes, a strange fondness appearing in his chest at his foolish bard. Maybe it was the blood loss completely destroying his mental filter, or the taste of what he thought he could never have that fuelled his response, or maybe it was the desperate need he felt to get rid of any bad things his bard was feeling.

“Yeah, ‘oh’. Now give me the fucking potion, let me sort out my shoulder, and then we can try that again.”

Blue eyes snapped over to his, widening as the words processed in his brain.

“ _Oh!_ ”

**Author's Note:**

> me: i’m going to write a funny and cute little fic it’ll be fun and lighthearted
> 
> also me: proceeds to write 1000 words of geralt fighting monsters
> 
> \------
> 
> just in case it wasn't clear, kiss is the name of a witcher potion that stops bleeding
> 
> i hope you enjoyed this silly idea of a fic, comments are always welcomed!


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